


Ginger Schnapps

by DwarvenReject



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: F/M, Ginger is the boss and it's kinda obvious, Mia's sister, lucas baker is a pathetic ass and I kinda like it, she'd kick his ass if she didn't know he'd lie it, this bitch is so done
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-07 00:15:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11047299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DwarvenReject/pseuds/DwarvenReject
Summary: Mia's sister almost wished Ethan never contacted her. Almost.





	1. Freedom (Finally)

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo I got on a roll again but instead of finishing my other chapters I made this. Enjoy!

Mia was always a bit of a flighty one. Sometimes, I wish I could be more like her. Mom and I were predictable and steady. We fit into our lives quite well despite my displeasure in it. When my older sister ran off to elope with Ethan I hated him. Loathed the man who took the woman I worshiped away from me.

I was homely. Fat. At least that’s what daddy said before running off with his cock in hand. Just like mom I guess but not as steel spined, despite wanting to be. My emotions were enraptured instead in paper and not in such rage and freedom of Mia. I couldn’t hope to live the wild life she did, not as I worked my whole to achieve the grade she breezed with, not when I had to pay mom's medical bills while she ran away.

Despite it all, I miss her. I missed when the days were not quiet and solemn. When the home was not just my mother and I, a woman who was stern and strict and while not unloving was quite cold. I wished for freedom but freedom came at a price and poverty could not afford it. The day she went missing her husband, the man I loathed with every fiber in my body, called the house. I remember it clearly and completely.

I had finished cleaning the trailer after a shift at the dive bar down the road, plants watered and one eyed stray fed. I was humming along and, embarrassingly enough dancing along to a Britney Spears song that did not age well in my ratty Walmart underwear and camisole while mom was starting her own shift at the hardware store.

The yellowed phone rang on the sagging divider wall, tarnished floral wallpaper even uglier next to the now yellow wall phone and its frayed coil. Picking at a spot that may have been gum residue from some years ago I bring the receiver to my ear.

“Thompson residence, this is Ginger speaking.”

I fiddle with my namesake hair for a moment as I listen to the hitched breathing on the other line. About to hang up I’m stopped by a strangled ‘Mia’.

“Who is this?!”

A sloppy sniffle.

"Mia. She’s gone. She’s gone.”

Ethan blubbered over the phone for a good minute while we made plans to meet later in the week. The dead tone of the phone rang shrilly in my ear after he hung up and I left it like that for probably longer than the conversation until I slid down the sagging, age stained wall at my back. Staring at the water stains that the ceiling I watch the sun line move about an inch before my heart breaks.

I sobbed. I wailed. I couldn’t breathe through the salty water and the snot. I couldn’t see through the swelling except to see the deep red flush of my freckled arms crossing over my face. I wept as cold tears slipped over my rounded cheeks and slipped down between my heaving breasts. Everything prickled on contact with my skin, as if needles dug into every pore.

I memorized the floral pattern by my head, like the night Mia left. It was during mom's well years when she was a bartender and a waitress and she was on an early morning shift. I woke up to a note on my bed and no sister. I had only seen her 5 times after and now I might never see her again.

We met at a cheap cafe in between our cities. She went all the way from a tiny town not even on the map in Virginia to New York. She promised to take me someday, when we were older. Half baked plans that never came to life just like the ones tossed between the air over that wobbly wooden table.

Half a year later she was declared dead and the search was over. The funeral was a dignified and largely empty affair. Wild though she was, I never realized how little friends she knew along the way. At least ones that knew her name. Unable to pay for most of it, the widowed and blank faced man helped pool together funds, just so we could lower it 6 feet down in an empty casket.

I never assumed or dared think that I would see or hear from the allusive man again. 2 ½ years stretched like an empty road, one more funeral left like a deep pothole in the gravel path except this time the much too light casket was filled with a wasted body from illness and disease, above it a wooden marker reading simply “Penelope Thompson nee Young”. She never did get rid of daddy's name. Perhaps she wished he would come back.

Tossing back the disgustingly hoppy beer I look over the chipped rim, through the hazy bar air, to see the uncomfortable Ethan leaning against the counter as if he wished he could be anywhere else. Bastards probably only been in a places that refuse to serve drinks under 30$. Waving away the potbellied and mutton-chopped leather clad bikers gripping their pool sticks too tightly I wipe my mouth.

I serve the boys every Friday and they keep passing tourists off my ass. Charlie’s wife just had twins, they can’t afford bailing him out over a petty bar fight.

"You’re telling me,”

I tossed my head back to swig the rest of brew, the yellowed lights making it glow like amber from within before leaving behind a simply unromantic trail of froth and fingerprint smudged glass. I slam it down with a grimace of disgust. How I wished for a couple fingers of whipped cream vodka at the moment.

"that Mia sent an e-mail. At least someone using her e-mail address did, telling you to "look for her in Dulvey Louisiana”. And this doesn’t seem suspicious at all?“

He bounced his leg and cleared his throat. If it was Mia in my seat she would have packed her things immediately and gone charging in blindly. Not for me though. For the adventure it would bring her. I am not Mia Winters, I like to think I have a mite more sense than her.

"When you say it like that, it sounds ridiculous. I just thought her last living relative should know.”

Jesus Christ.

"I’m coming.”

I may not be Mia Winters but with nothing holding me behind except a broken trailer and a dead end job, I feel the freedom fill my lungs. Perhaps I am just as selfish as her, because while she is the beginning of this adventure, she is not my end.  
******

Maybe I need to make a new saying. ‘When one goes looking for something different, don’t go complaining when you find it’ maybe? Although I felt very much like complaining when I found myself trudging across swamp mud to some kind of crack house in the middle of nowhere. I already harped once about this trip and once was all he gave me. I felt like stretching that rule a bit when every good womanly sense in my body screamed in rage with every step closer.

Sighing, I swat another mosquito and wonder if adventure was really all that as it’s said to be. After sleeping in the car, a couple unflattering pictures came of that that he saved to his phone, I have a crick in my neck that could strangle a donkey and coffee stained jeans. My tits got in the way of brushing my teeth again, the girls too big for their damn britches seeming to shove up and catch any falling paste.

So here I am, unwashed, tired, in stained clothing a couple days old and my heart has never beat as fast. Maybe there’s merit in this?  
*******

Once again I have to reevaluate the situation when my crazy ass sister chased Ethan and I all over the the rotten house our panicked screams and fear sweat saturated the dusty air. I am not proud to say the only thing holding my bladder was the fact that I already pissed on a tree up the road.

Wheezing through the frog in my throat I try not to wonder about the cell we found her in, needing to find Ethan first. We got separated after the whole fiasco of putting an axe in my sister's neck.

Bile burned my esophagus and I coughed a little more wetly, tears running freely down my cheek. Mia….oh god Mia. Bloody and gray, face twisted in hatred and sickness. Oh god above, Mia..in this moment I wish it were me instead. Gripping the bolt cutters firmly I tear open the only place I haven’t looked for a fuse. I cried openly when I found it, clean of filth and stains unlike the mold encrusted ones in place. Sweat slippery fingers fumbled to even pick them up, growing stronger when I got closer to the fuse box. The strength left when I left the room to be ambushed by a walking dead woman.

“Hey! Hey Gin. I know you guys didn’t mean to hurt me. God I’ve missed you baby girl.”

Too late I noticed the shadow against the wall and I was pinned to it a second later.

"IT FUCKING HURT YOU FAT BITCH!”

Howling I clocked her upside the jaw instead of taking it, bar fights and liquor infused blood burning at the monster wearing my sister's skin. The hard clacking and squelching from her bloody mouth met with numb ears as I began to struggle with the screwdriver in my palm. The buzzing chainsaw cut through the muggy air as well as it cut through my arm, taking my hand with it when I tried to protect my face. She wandered away, mumbling about containing the infection or something after that.

“Mother fucking bitch! Fuck, fuck, fucking shit!”

I wrapped it and limped up to my doom, finding a gun conveniently.

"Alright. Fine.”

The words were much less firm and more mourning. Anger drained as I looked down the chamber and realized I will be loosing my sister all over again. I was chased by the demon in familiar faces as I finally put the last bullet in her head, sloppy sobs escaping when she drew her last breath to say 'I love you’. Rubbing away the blood and snot I limp away.

"I love you too sis.”

I was not expecting the fist to the face when I rounded the corner, hard knuckles cracking over a slightly upturned nose and probably breaking it from the mind numbing pain, only catching a flash of balding maniac hillbillies in an ugly plaid and hoody holding up a K.O.ed Ethan. The one in the hoody whistled and crouched by my head, finger flicking the tip of my throbbing nose.

“Ohhhhh, she looks fun. Can ah keep 'er pa?”

The other grunted and the skeletal face twisted in sickening glee. The hollows in his cheeks and temples stretched as much as the bags under his eyes, chapped lips are bloodless and pale glistening crocodile teeth glimmering behind them. A beaky nose scrunched up as glassy blue eyes looked me up and down.

“Ah have a feelin’ we’re gonna be goooood friends.”

He stood up swiftly, only to bring his muddy boot down on my head.


	2. A Lil Messy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginger learns to be a little selfish and Lucas learns things aren't so bad underneath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fell asleep with my phone on my face and woke up to an edited chapter lol. I fixed most of it I think but tell me if there's more mistakes.

I woke up sore and so dehydrated I couldn't swallow past my swollen tongue. Headache throbbing so badly I close my eyes after slotting them open. I'm not ready to confront what's going on around me, loud voices bickering over a gore covered table and pinprick eyes glaring up at me from under a hood and above a smirk. Tightening my fist I wince quietly. Miracle of miracles, my severed hand was reattached fully. I can only blearily remember a southern croon and blue, so so blue, eyes staring me down from a gaunt face.

'Ohhhh baby, don' die on meh now. Ah got plans fer you.'

  
He held me down as he stapled the appendage back on and I passed out before I could kindly inform him that's NOT how bodies work. Apparently I was mistaken. Coughing spasticity a few tears slip out at the sharp pain behind my temples.

"Mother fucking hell."

I sounded more like a petulant child than a rightfully angry grown ass woman. Sooner or later I have to face the spine tingling, out of tune violin music in front of me and from the woman's high pitched and loving admonishments, that time is now.

Slotting my eyes open a little bit at a time I peer through my lashes at the people surrounding me. They were like a parody of a traditional family. Mom, dad, son, and creepy ass grandma all staring at me with varying degrees of blood lust. Or, in the sons case, a weird and intense amount of interest. Trying to breathe through my rising panic I break eye contact with him to look at the woman tweaking out beside me, rats nest hair absolutely infested with roaches and flies.

"You should eat up hon! Ah made this special fer yooou."

The dead eyed old woman on my other side seemed to pierce my soul with a watery stare, wrinkly lips curving up, weighed down by seemingly countless years. The big man across from me watched with glee, one hand gripping his bent fork too tightly and the other the woman's hand. Twin wedding bands glitter, tarnished in the low candlelight. Pointedly ignoring the other man that straightened up, I look back at the crazy bug lady.

"What is it?"

I have a very distinct feeling that I'm not going to like the answer, sour rot filtering through my sinuses. Her unnaturally large smile crumbles into a tight scowl, crinkled eyes widening to the size of the moon.

"IT'S SUPPA, THA'S WHAT IT IS! AN' YER GONNA FUCKING EAT IT!"

The hooded man leapt across the table before her fork could drive into my non-Frankenstein hand, dirty boot breaking his plate in half when he stomped on it. He stayed like that, half standing on the table as he draws me up to a crouched standing by my hair, unable to move past it with the chair strapped to my arms.

Pain raced across my strained limbs, rough rope biting into my wrists when feet struggle to stay steady. He looked at me in pure glee before carefully massaging my jaw open, hard fingertips rubbing my inner cheeks harshly against my teeth. He held me by the face as he lifted a piece of 'food' to my puckered lips, smiling the more I struggled against it. He popped it in and I couldn't get enough air to spit it in his face.

Gagging roughly I try to tip my head forward while he popped something from his hoody pocket into his own mouth. Tongue pushing the nasty thing from the back of my mouth to the front my progress is stopped by roughly chapped lips slapping onto mine, hard teeth clanking together as he pushed some stale popcorn inside, using his tongue to push it all into the back. His large nose pressed into mine, the split skin across my bridge stinging fiercely.

At least the over buttered kernels smothered the pungent after taste. With no choice but to swallow I gulp it whole as quickly as I can, trying to shake my face away from his. He only deepened the unwanted kiss, saliva and butter blessedly wiping away the disgusting flavor.

He bit my lip suddenly, surprised squeal muffled in my mouth when he was pulled back. I fell back onto the floor, chair legs teetering dangerously back as I watch a large meat hook peek from his abdomen and start wiggling around.

"Now, Lucas, we raised ya better than tha'. Not at tha dinner table!"

The hook yanked harder and I heard the sickening crack of ribs breaking. I screamed like a little bitch, watching the torrent of blood flood to the floor. The man, Lucas, only groaned and stomped his foot.

"Gawddamn it old man, ah was jus' introducing mahself!"

What an introduction. I might have enjoyed it if not for the situation. Screaming again, I feel the chair fall back, unable to stop it as I slam onto the hardwood flooring, back of my head rebounding with a wet thunk.

"Fuck!"

"Shi' baby, you ok?"

He slurred around the words as who must be his father tore out the hook. Huffing past the pain, I bare my teeth at the peering face.

"My names Ginger asshole. Use it!"

His pinched weasel face brightened considerably, with a smile almost too big to be comfortable and glassy eyes wider than normal.

"Yeah, she's ok."

Dick! His mother helped me up, dirty fingers patting me over for injuries.

"How'd ya lahk the food sweetheart?"

I force a smile while looking into her rotten maw, sour hot breath washing over my face. No one is lconcerned by the man bleeding out on the other side of the table so I decided to roll with it.

"It was delicious. Thank you for the meal Mrs.."

"Oh jus' call meh mama dear. Lucas, be a gentleman and show her to her room while pa an' ah go take care of Ethan."

Her mushy smilthe turned sinister real quick while my heart beat kicked up a notch. The man stood tall as if he didn't get stabbed through with a meat hook only wincing when his father patted him roughly on the shoulder and his mom pressed a hurriedly ed kiss to his cheek. After they disappeared through the double doors did I notice the old woman missing. Head whipping back and forth I almost smack my face into the heaving abdomen of Lucas who now stood right in front of me, blood sticking into my already ruddy fringe.

Too late I notice the knife in his hand. Screams meet empty air as he brings down the blade too....cut the rope, frayed and rotten fibers parting like the Red Sea under the sharpened hunters knife which he shoves into his belt when I'm free. Just a couple nicks but I have a feeling complaining about them to the guy that just survived being run through without screaming would not be the best idea.

"How-uh-how are ya alive?!"

My eyes flicked up to his face buried in his hood, veins freezing when his eyes keep mine. He looks exhausted and gaunt but not almost corpse like. Unlike his parents, or what might have been an actual corpse in a wheelchair. He's skinny as hell though, structure of his skull peeking through thin skin and a sheen of sweat. Oh, yeah, like that one crack head down the street. Nice enough from a distance and certainly not with such pretty cheek bones that sharpen his smirk like a knife to the gut.

"Come on, purdy thang, le's getcha comfy."

He doesn't answer my question, just yanks me up by the arm, dragging me through the double doors. His legs eat ground while I stumble behind, short and stout in comparison to him.

"Where's Ethan? Mia? I swear to fucking god you fre-"

He rounded on me as we came up to a slightly lighter section of wallpaper, hands coming up to grip my shoulder and press his thumbs deepply into the base of my neck. Not into my windpipe but I get the message, the only thing to compute into this mind numbing fear. What's going on here?

"Gingey, baby cakes, ah need you to shut the hell up right now. Ok?"

Pursing my lips I nod and let him drag me off through a secret passage to the outside, blinking away shock as I listened to the screams around me.   
*******

A fucking week we are stuck here, no explanation, nothing but pure insanity. Ethan met with us on the 3rd dinner, him and Mia tied to chairs while Lucas kept me in his scrawny lap, hands fisted in the oversized flannel I was given every time they tried to get my attention. I was too concentrated on my own survival, inner selfish bitch taking rise. It hurt every time Mia was stabbed for screaming though.

In that week I learned a lot about Lucas in particular. His favorite color (the grayish pink of splattered brain matter), his favorite sport (football), hell even his favorite animal (alligators, he even had a ratty stuffed one he was forced to give the mystery girl Eveline). He offers all this information with the weirdest love struck look on his face while forcing a few hot kisses onto me. It was like a dating game show around here. This man is sick and I refuse to step up to the mantel of 'girlfriend' despite the growing part of me that really, really wants to. I have to leave. Tonight.   
********

The plan didn't go well. Not at all. I didn't make it past his barn gates before being caught and literally dragged back by the hair. He hissed and spit like a cobra, shoving me onto a chair in the bed room lI'm kept in for most of the time. He went on about danger and disappointment but I tuned him out for the most partMy . Probably why it was a surprise when he slammed his hands on the rickety arm rest, shoving his face into my space.

"Look at meh."

When I didn't he collided his mouth with mine, hard pecks inflaming something I want desperately to ignore. When he finished I flicked my eyes open for a second then looked back at the wall. He deflated and gave me a watery smile I could see out the corner of my eye showing he wasn't that mad.

"Aw, come on, don' be lahk tha'."

Turning up my nose I lean away from the waft of hot breath. Like soured sugar and peanuts. I stared him down my nose, disdain thick on my tongue as his face slowly morphed from easygoing lust to anger. I was not expecting the crack across the cheeok, nothing more than noise really but the rage behind it stills my tongue. His heavy brows furrowed and his crocodile teeth flash.

"Yer not lahk those other bitches. Ah know you aren't! But ah swear to gawd, you start acting lahk it an' we might have a little talk bout attitude adjustments. 'Kay?"

I nod and his eyes soften before he turns my head a bit, checking the slight reddening of my cheek. He's a goddamn psycho but there might be something wrong with me too from the throbbing between my legs. I had to bite my lip to stop myself from asking for another hit.

"Look at meh please."

He got on his knees, hands framing my face. What a needy asshole. I kinda like it. I kinda really like it. A man who hangs off my every word like it's gospel, who touched me like I was a goddess, even if I wish it wasn't from him. Oh fuck it, I've already convinced myself to be the most selfish bitch on this side of the continent, why not burn my confusion and fury, especially since he refused to give me any answers.

"Call me baby."

His eyes brighten and he lands a sloppy kiss on target, slippery tongue forcing my lips apart so he pressed could lick my teeth, gums laved over in a way that feels invasive. A hard object poked my leg and I knew completely what it was but didn't bring it up. Well, maybe I encouraged it, wrapping my arms around his spindly neck and kissing back. I don't think he's kissed anything other than his pillow from the hint of drool on my chin but god does it feel good. This is just some mindless stress relief. Nothing more. He backed away with almost a suction like pop and licked up the trail of drool on my chin, giggling like the mass murder he probably is.

"Can ah touch yer tits baby?"

I nod and don't look away as he slipped my cotton shirt under my granny bra. Coomfy, cupless, but literally no sex appeal. He doesn't give much of a damn it seems when he reverently swept a callused thumb over my nipple, silky material pressing into the little nub. He looked up before leaning forward to lave over the previously neglected one, sucking it and the bra into his mouth. Jaw dropping I lean my head back and release a strangled moan. Too long since I've had anything but my own hands. He sucked deeper before letting go with a wet pop.

"It feel good?"

"Uh-huh."

He yanked the material under my tits, attaching himself to my bare nipple after a split second of appraisal. He started to lap at them, all slobbery and whining like a dog. I want to yank on his puppy leash.

"Stop.

He stopped and looked up at me with big ol' gummy eyes that might start crying if I don't start explaining.

"I want to see you. Take off your clothes."

For the first time he shut down, curling a bit into himself and turning, from a cute attention starved puppy, to a rabid Rottweiler ready to tear me apart if I got too close.

"Please."

His scowl didn't lessen but he did jerk off his hoody, graphic T a bit baggy and pants hanging off his hips. He wouldn't look me in the eye while he striped the rest, ratty cotton boxers not even hiding his erection. He's a bit....large. More long than thick, just how I like them. This might hurt. He bony hands encircled my wrists before I could get a good look and tossed me back first onto the bare mattress on the floor. Pillows fall onto the ground with a muffled "oomf" from me, winded on impact

He collapsed on top of me after a split second appraisal. I can't see his ribs but I do want to lick in the hollows of his hip bones. I never really liked skinny men before but there's a time for everything. Like the animals I keep comparing him to he bites into my ribs while fingers press gently into my thighs. I don't dare ask him to stop again, not with his teeth pressing deeper into my skin.

Clumsy fingers fumble with his stretched out band, trying to roll the black fabric over his butt before he dry humped himself into oblivion. I get off or no one does. Or maybe I'll cage up his dick, can't wank as punishment. Would that be too cruel? It'd be hot as hell though, all caged up and begging for release. For just a little touch.

Panting through my excitement soft hands grab hold of the dick pressed to my hip, ignoring Lucas now sucking my neck and weaseling his arms under my body. Breathless laughter fills my chest when I swipe my thumb over the weeping tip, pre cum smearing over his glands. It bubbled out when he began barking into the skin of my tits, snarling and nosing deeper with a big smug grin. What a dumbass.

"Hit me again."

He reared up and stared down in shock, blinking fog from his big blues. Thin but shapely lips pull up and I warn him before he winds up.

"Bruise me and I'll crush it."

I hold his cock tighter, fist forming around his head tight enough to still his surprised thrust. He pressed a quick kiss to the underside of my jaw before sitting up and I quailed my jumping heart. I like when he does something even a little romantically inclined. Contact and emotionally starved? Maybe I am but so is he so I don't feel rising judgment when I moaned, a sharp throb on my cheek copied aggressively between my legs.

We're the same. In this moment I feel a sensation of companionship and it hurts. It aches in a way I'm not sure another could understand, this sort of oneness with such a sick man. To cover my rising tears I smooth my lips against his, feverishly kissing him into oblivion. Please, god, make this better.

It doesn't lessen the heavy guilt but it numbed me to the point I couldn't feel him fumble to unlatch my bra and peel off my jeans. Elbows got in the way and our sloppy faces didn't separate for more than a second. When he finally got sick of my shirt and ripped it enough to slip off we were on an uncomfortable amount of equal ground.

I can't put my clothes back on so I recline and draw him back with me, panting when he let me breathe to press his lips into my cheek, my shoulder, between my breasts, alllll the way to my stomach where he paused to sweep his smooth tongue to a lightning shaped stretch mark.

"Lucaaaas."

I almost flinch at how needy I sound when hard teeth scraped over the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, fingers digging into my marked hips. Fuck, I was not expecting this. At least I shaved before this stupid adventure. His oral is just as sloppy as his kisses but with a dangerous and gentle bite of his teeth. When an incisor caught my clit I nearly screamed and gripped him by his big ass ear, tugging him back up my body and into missionary. A little boring but I don't think my legs could support me for anything more interesting at the moment.

Way too long. Working at a bar with tits like these gave me a small parade of dick and pussy, drunk as they were. Fun as hell but after how disastrous the last one ended, some young woman stalking me for a month, I exercised a little bit of self discipline and swore off one nighpt stands. That was more than a year ago, with only toys and hands for company and now I'm ready to cream with this mans almost virginal fumbling. Wonderful.

Hand on his cock, I press his head in place and wrapped my legs around his scrawny hips. He pressed a little before pausing and looking me right in the eye, our space shared with physical intensity and some kind of unspoken agreement that I don't fully understand. Trembling hands touch his face, sweeping under his eyes to feel the thin scars of exhaustion, blonde lashes tickling my thumb when I pressed the nail deeper.

"Fuck me."

He shoved forward, hips colliding almost violently to my ass cheeks. He hunched a bit and made a drawn out whine, curses spilling over his lips in a way that made me twitch.

"Fuck! Been practicin' allll week baby but, uh, it ain't like the real thing."

Feet bracing on the shot mattress I tilt my hips up and bark at him.

"Move!"

He does, shakily at first, until he got the rhythm. I only had to told my hips up to get the perfect angle to hit that one hard to reach spot, nails digging into his arms with every jerk. I was so goddamn close when he began to stall, a look of panic on his face. Oh, sweetheart. Instead of giggling or getting irritated-no quicker way to get a man soft-I used my legs to flip us over.

Pinning him by the shoulders I start to rock, working him from semi hard back to rock steady. I felt some of his cum leak out around our sex and I squashed my anger. It's not like I can get pregnant, my IUD still has 2 years to it. It's the fact he didn't get a goddamn condom. If he can handle getting impaled, he can deal with a couple broken fingers. But first I need to cum.

Pulling his frozen hands from his sides I put on on my tit and one on my hip, smiling when I started to move up and down. Making sure he held on and began pulling my nipple a bit I pinched my own clit and began bucking like a cowgirl on a bull. Fast, hard, and probably leaving a bruise of two.

His hand migrated from my hit to my ass, slapping my thick thigh on the way and grabbing a handful like it was a lifeline. He tilted his head back a little, mouth gaping as I working him toward another orgasm and I felt a powerful wave start to hit me. Palm slapping onto his chest my hips stutter and jerk while his cock twitched in time.

Remembering my promise I yank a hand from my waist, grip the fingers, and pull back with a wet crunch. Instead of screaming I felt the first spurt of cum and I watched, pure amazement slackening my face, as his back bowed and face twisted in pleasure. That...was unexpected.

Hunched over and panting I watch him buck under me, fascinated. He was pretty cute actually, with his eyes rolling up and lashes fluttering. His pale skin flushed dark pink from his cheeks to his neck and sweat glistened a little in the light of the bare light fixture. Teeth flash when he bites his lip and finally falls flat on the bed. Cute.

Falling to the side I wince at the soft popping sound of him slipping out, our...fluids running together down my leg. I watch him sit up and set his broken fingers. He looks up and I swear his eyes are heart shaped.

"Damn. Did a real numba on meh Gin."

Ouch. I felt myself close off at the familiar nickname. I'd give my left tit for some of that though. He slumped over on me, open mouth pressed into my sweaty side. Lips quirking I lace my fingers into his short hair and watch him pressed his sloppy kisses with drowsy eyes. I could get used to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ginger isn't supposed to be very likable but she is relatable and severely needs to learn some selfishness. Lucas is her love struck guinea pig.


End file.
